Month: February 2018

I’m not sure what to think about this. While it’s true (and I’d be a big fat liar if I said otherwise) that I love this image of … um … me, I also realize that I don’t look anything like this.

Or do I?

Face it (pun intended) it’s kinda fun to look at an image of your best self and pretend it’s really you. I’ve never considered myself photogenic, but hells bells, if I looked like this, I’d be running for mayor or something.

I found this app on Facebook—you know, one of those “See what your movie star self would look like” or some such nonsense, and, of course, I tried it. Then I got really creative and dropped a screenshot of the image into Photoshop, got rid of the app’s identifying yellow arrow, and wham, it’s me.

Or a reasonable facsimile. Or just a facsimile.

I did this once with a picture of my sister Becky. She’s always wanted to be a Disney princess, so I made her one. Here’s how it turned out.

She still hasn’t changed her profile picture to this because she doesn’t want people to think she’s just this cute.

Becky gets annoyed with me whenever I change up my Facebook profile picture (which I do often) because she sees it as a pathetic cry for attention, which, admittedly, it probably is. And since no one else ever takes pictures of me, I take a lot of selfies, and sometimes those selfies end up looking better than the last selfie I took and, well, it’s a vicious cycle, y’know?

But I also don’t want anyone to think I’m hiding my true self with my creativity here, even though it would take yards of Spanx, some pretty resourceful and expensive hair and makeup magic, and a couple of well-placed shrubs to render me decent enough for a realistic full-body pic. The truth lies somewhere in between what you see above and this gem of a photo, below.

Tried to be a passport photo

You see, this is the original me, the selfie that I took that I thought I could use as a passport photo (when what really happened is that I got to the post office and Cliff, the guy behind the counter, took a picture of me with dirty hair, no makeup, and a really pissed off look on my face that any respectable customs agent will undoubtedly interpret as a terrorist threat). However, looking at this photo, I’m not sure which is worse.

No admittance

I think the appeal of the Facebook app that renders your ordinary self into a smokin’ hot goddess is that we mere mortals rarely have the opportunity to make over ourselves into our fantasy selves. Because this is what this is, and it is what it is. The churched-up image might be pretty to look at, but it doesn’t begin to describe the wonderfulness of who we really are inside, right?